Don't Enter
by seeyousoon2day
Summary: Italy shuddered once again in his sleep, as the once happy dream of making pasta turned more and more into a nightmare of his past. (This story will possibly be a HetaOni story.)
1. Prologue - Dream

**So here's my spiel before anything: I don't own Hetalia, I don't own the characters (Mr. Hidekaz Himaruya owns it all!) I am doing this because I want to work on my writing skills. It is not for monetary gain. It is not to make people feel uncomfortable. It is not to fulfill some dark fantacies anyone has. If you want to have a real story to read (one with original characters and such) please go pick up a Charles Dickens novel. Thank you! Also, even though the characters or original story is not mine, I do know that I have put time and effort into writing this story. DO NOT STEAL IT! The only one who can is Mr. Himaruya (mainly because he created Hetalia.) Thank you!**

**Alright! (Almost done, I swear.) So this is a story I started based on three specific HetaOni AMVs I saw on youtube. I cannot promise if this will turn into a HetaOni fanfiction. I also cannot promise any bloody scenes. However, I will try to write and interesting and thrilling story nonetheless. And if you have suggestions, don't be afraid to say something. ^_^ I love it when people help me out (sometimes. . . but that's another story.)**

**Enjoy!**

Prologue

Italy shuddered once again in his sleep, as the once happy dream of making pasta turned more and more into a nightmare of his past. In these modern days, Italy was usually never plagued by nightmares. However, every so often one would rear its ugly head, torturing the poor European nation as he fought to wake up. No matter how much Italy fought against the images flashing through his mind, waking was just out of reach.

Beads of sweat fell from his brow, while his body quivered. His legs and arms twisted into the sheets, tightening as he struggled to get free. Italy just could not get free. He whimpered as the haunting terrors grew and grew on his fear.

As the dawn's light started to shine through the window, Italy was able to break the spell. He stopped his struggling, taking deep breaths to slow his heart. Finally, Italy opened one eye. He peered around the part of the room in his sight. Then, after a moment, he opened the other eye; and lifted his head ever so slightly off the pillow. No. No monsters.

Italy let his head fall back down, and closed his eyes. He slowly untangled his limbs from the sheets, arranging himself into a better, less hurtful position. Laying there, he noticed his pillow, and parts of the sheets were drenched in sweat. However, at that moment, when all his muscles were screaming of aches and pains, and his eyes urged him to just keep them shut, he just did not care enough to change them.

'I'll do that later,' he thought to himself. 'before the meeting today . . . or maybe after . . .'

And with that last thought in mind, Italy drifted off to a dreamless sleep, forgetting the nightmares he just recently fought against.

**Please R&R! Thank you!**


	2. Ch 1 - Panic

**I don't own Hetalia. Mr. Himaruya Hidekaz does. Writing this is just for fun, and to improve my writing skills. Here you go!**

Chapter One - Panic

Only a few nations noticed that something was off with Italy as he entered the building where the meeting was being held. He tried his hardest not to have anyone notice how dark and heavy the bags under his eyes were, or how he was dragging his feet towards the meeting room. He never liked to make people worry about him. Especially his closet friends. The same friends that were probably already in the meeting room, waiting for his arrival.

Italy just did not want to see Germany right now, mainly out of fear of how the man would handle his appearance. The northern European country may not always show his feelings, besides anger, but Italy knew just how much Germany feared for him. Plus, even though Italy would usually run to Germany when he had a bad dream, there was just something about the nightmare last night that scared him enough not to. It was as if that dream was warning him about something. He just did not know wh-

Suddenly, Italy crashed into something hard. The Italian had no time to catch himself, as he fell to the ground.

"Ow," poor Italy was having a hard enough day; and now he had just run into someone, "Scusi. I didn't mean to –." As Italy looked up to see who it was, he froze to his spot on the floor, "ee –" was all he could say.

A tall figure, eerily shrouded in a thick purple aura, looked down at him. Even though the large man had a smile on his face, Italy was still terrified of the large nation. Russia was always terrifying.

"Oh you poor thing," Russia bent down, picking the Italian up, and sitting him back up on his feet, "you look terrible. Mind telling Mother Russia what happened, da?"

A squeak escaped Italy's mouth, "N-n-no. I'm fine really!" Where was his white flag when he needed it?

"Are you sure," Russia took a look at the smaller nation, seeing how tired he was, "You look like you had a terrible night."

"N-n-no. Just fine," Italy trembled, so much so that he almost appeared like one of the Baltic Trio.

"Hmm," Russia thought, "I think you're lying to me, da?"

But Russia was never able to get a response, for when he took his hands off of the small man, Italy made a mad dash for the meeting room. Italy would rather face an angry – and slightly worried – Germany than Russia any day.

Out of breath, with slightly shaking knees, Italy calmed himself down. Once he was satisfied, he walked through the door to the meeting room.

The room, as any of their meeting spaces around the world, was grand. Besides the floral lace curtains hanging from each tall window, there was an enormously large table in the center, which provided each nation with enough elbow room to sit and spread some papers around. Evenly spaced out on the top of it were multiple pitchers of crystal clear water, each surrounded with an even number of glasses. The chairs along the table were hand-carved, with soft and cushy seat covers for maximum comfort. At the other end of the room was a broad podium, carved with the same floral decorations as the chairs and the curtains. Italy had hand-picked almost all the items in the room when this meeting hall had been built; all the floral decorations were of the stylized lily, his nation's unofficial national flower* – though the only reason it was unofficial, was due to his brother's nagging about how the "wine-pervert" had already taken the "stupid flower." Sometimes he did not know why he brother was so cranky about something so simple.

With Italy deep in his thoughts, he was not aware of the figure looming behind him; until a broad hand came down to clamp his shoulder. The nation yelped, loud enough to turn some heads of nations already walking to their seats. Italy turned around to see Germany with an irritated look on his face.

"Italy," the northern nation roughly said, "Keep your voice down!"

"Eh, s-sorry Germany! I didn't mean to! I thought you were someone else!"

"Somevone else?"

"Y-yeah. But it doesn't matter now. Heh, heh," Italy slightly turned, starting to make his way to his seat, "The meeting's about to start, heh Germany?"

"Hey Italy," Germany called right behind him, "You don't look so well. Are you alright?"

Of course the man would catch on soon to Italy's sleep deprived state! He always knew when the smaller nation was hurt or sick! Italy just could not catch a break today!

However, he still tried to play dumb, "I don't know what you're talking about. Let's just sit down, heh," Italy took his seat, looking up at his companion, "I know how you don't like to waste time and start meetings late, Germany," he smiled as innocently as he could.

Germany just stared down at him, but decided to leave him alone at the moment, "I guess you're right."

Germany made his way up to the podium, while Italy sighed, some relief setting in. He was not able to enjoy a moment, though, as right when Germany turned around to face the incoming nations, the northern country saw Russia walk right up to Italy, handing him his suitcase and papers.

"I believe you forgot these on the ground, da?" Russia smiled sweetly at Italy, who had just started shaking again.

Italy took his stuff, nodding, "Th-thank you," his eyes shot up to Germany. Oh no! He was caught! Italy turned a bright red, mainly from fear and embarrassment.

Russia followed his gaze up to the podium. The stark nation smiled up at Germany, "Oh hello friend! I was just returning Italy's stuff to him. You see, he had dropped it when he ran into me. Apparently, he was too dizzy to watch where he was going, da."

"Oh really, now."

Italy shook his head no, while Russia just nodded and smiled. Germany sighed, turning away from the two as the meeting began. Italy knew he was in trouble now.

As the meeting went on, with America, France, and England fighting with each other once again, Italy sat nervously beside Germany. Instead of being irritated at the Three Stooges trio before him, Germany was more concerned with his old time friend. Italy had been looking worse since he sat down.

"Italy, are you alright?" Germany questioned, "You don't look so vell."

"N-n-no. I'm fine. I promise," Italy smiled weakly, "I just have a headache from the conversation going on right now, heh. I'm fine."

"You don't look it."

"I'm fine, Germany, really."

Germany sighed, looking in front of him again. Sometimes the Italian could be so stubborn.

Italy, trying to ignore the stares he was still getting from his friend, decided to look out one of the windows. The wind flowed through the trees, making the branches sway and some of the deep green leaves to break off. This calmed Italy, making him forget his headache.

He was once again lost in thought when he saw someone run across the street in a great speed. 'Wow that man can run,' he thought.

But then, something else caught his eye. It looked as if something was in the window across the street. 'Maybe the wind is just moving their curtains,' Italy blinked, trying to clear his vision, 'their window could be open, heh.'

But as he looked again, the black curtains moved away from the window all together. Italy's eyes opened wide, and he started to shake a little more. The wind cannot move curtains that far, can it? No. It must have been a very strong wind. That is what it was for sure.

However, as Italy tried to persuade himself, the curtains came back to the window. This time, though, Italy finally noticed that the curtains were actually a black cloak, and the face of the creature wearing them was staring directly towards him. His shaking did not end, as the creature disappeared back into the room.

'It's all a bad dream. It's all a bad -,' Italy's thoughts were cut off as he saw the figure walk out of the building, glaring up at him once more. He watched in horror as it crossed the street in a swift movement, keeping its eyes on Italy, 'It's the same! The same one from last night!'

Italy was in full panic mode as the thing disappeared into the building. He screeched and jumped up, knocking over his chair. Germany, tried to grab his shoulder, though he jerked away from the touch.

"No!" Italy screamed.

The rest of the meeting room quieted down, as Germany tried to take hold of the trembling nation.

"No! Keep away!" Italy moved away from Germany and other concerned nations, trapping himself in a corner.

"Italy, vhat's wrong?"

"What did you do to him, Potato Bastard?!" Romano, Italy's twin, shoved his way to his brother, "Italy!" He tried to place his other half into an embrace, but Italy smacked him away.

"No! No!" Italy screeched, pushing himself even more into the corner, "stay away!"

Tears were streaming down his face, his breath becoming harder. Italy slumped down to the ground, knees finally giving out, "No more," he whimpered, "no more."

The frail man passed out from exhaustion, the action receiving some concerned voices.

Romano crouched down to his twin's side, "Italy!"

Japan, who was able to maneuver his way to the front of the crowd, now gave Germany a worried look. The German in return just shook his head.

_*I looked it up on Google. It is said that the national flower of France and (unofficially) Italy is the stylized lily. (Which to people who don't know is the cool three-petal flower that shows up on a lot of old things. Look it up on Google images if you want to see! P.s. a real lily will have more than three petals . . . unless you mess with it.)_


	3. Ch 2 - Only Time

**I'm so sorry for not posting anything! Here's a long chapter just for you all! (Himaruya owns this, NOT ME. It's just for fun!)**

_/_

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_Chapter Two_

There were voices. So many voices. Italy's mind was swarming. Why were there so many voices?

He tried to open his eyes, but there was something covering them. He struggled against it. The voices were getting louder and louder.

"Italy!"

"Is he okay, dude?!"

"Bloody Wanker!"

Why were there so many voices? So many screams?

"No! Prussia watch ou- AAAAHHH!"

"Mon Cher! NO!"

"Canada!"

Screams. So many screams!

"Italy! You have to wake up!"

"Fratcello!"

"Romano!"

Screams! No! Just get away!

"AAAHHH!"

"Sister! NO!"

Screaming and breaking and screaming and tearing and screaming and –

Italy opened his eyes, seeing blood spew out of Germany's mouth, and down his uniform.

"Italy . . .run—"

Italy shot up, screaming. His dazed vision saw only worried faces. No blood. No screams, but his own.

"Italy," the young man looked over to see Germany's worried face, "it's all right."

Italy slowly calmed his beating heart, and started to control his breathing. Everything was fine. Everthing was okay.

Germany held his friend in his arms, carefully leaning him back again.

After Italy's earlier episode, he and America had moved him to the Infirmary room. The meeting resumed as normal, with the exception of a few people. Germany had to go back, to keep the peace. Japan and Romano stayed with Italy, just in case he would awake before it was over. America also stayed, saying something about it being a hero's job. Thankfully, though, without him in the room, and England and France finally being serious for once, the rest of the meeting went smoothly. So smoothly, in fact, that it had ended a half hour early.

Now, Germany was back in the room, watching as his friend slowly came back to the waking world. But there was something off.

"G-germany," Italy held tears in his eyes; but not normal ones – the ones he got from being easily scared by something. No. These tears were not that.

"Fratello, you shouldn't move," Romano said sternly, with a soft hint of concern in his voice.

Italy turned towards his brother's voice, blinking a few tears away, "Eh. Sorry Romano."

"Italy-kun," Japan started, "If I may be so bold to ask, but what was it that made you so scared earlier?"

Usually the small Asian was more polite, but he needed to get some answers from Italy. It was not like his friend to scream during a meeting, much less shriek as he did.

"Oh," Italy thought about it. Why did he freak out like that? What had happened beforehand? He tried his hardest to think about what exactly had set him off, but nothing came to mind, "I . . . I don't really know."

"You don't know?" Germany asked.

"No."

"Oh come on, Fratello. Quit being stupid, and just tell us."

"I – I don't know."

Japan closed his eyes and crossed his arms, "Maybe you forgot. You must have been too traumatized when you fainted earlier to remember what had made you like that now."

"Well that would explain it," Germany said, "But right now we won't worry about it too much. I'll go get the car, and I'll give you a ride home."

"Ah. Thank you Germany," Italy smiled sweetly.

Germany gave a nod before leaving the room, thankful that Italy was starting to act like himself again. Even if there were tears that stained his face.

"Ah! Germany wait up," Japan followed the man, "May I ask for a ride as well. I feel that maybe one of us should stay around Italy-kun for a couple of hours. Just in case he has another episode."

"Good idea, Japan. It will be no problem."

While the two walked towards the car, Romano helped his brother off the bed, giving him a round of curses with each movement. Neither Italian noticed a certain blonde walk out of the room. America had been able to keep his mouth shut – surprisingly – while he watched his cohorts converse about what occurred an hour before. There was just something he did not like about the situation.

America was deep in his thoughts that he did not notice England walk up beside him.

"Where have you been America? You didn't go off running to McDonalds again, did you?"

"What? Oh. No. Not this time," America said offhandedly.

"Is there something wrong?" England looked towards his formal colony with slight concern. Generally America was much louder than this, especially when it came to anything that involved burgers.

"It just this thing with Italy. It's just too weird, man."

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know, something's just off."

/

Germany sighed once more as he lifted Italy out of the car. Though conscious the whole time, his friend had barely said anything the whole trip. Usually Italy would talk his ear off . . . but not now.

Romano opened the door, allowing the Potato Bastard to walk in with his brother. He hated being nice to that man, who stole his brother's attention and time. But if it meant his little Italy was helped as well, he did not mind much.

"H-hey, Germany," Italy squeeked weakly.

"Ja?"

"Can you put me on the couch, instead?"

Germany looked down at him, "You don't want to lay down in bed at a time like this? I think it would be better if –"

"No. I want to stay down here with you all."

"Are you sure?"

"Si."

Germany paused, looking down at Italy. After a moment, he walked into the living room, placing his friend down on the long-spread couch.

"Ah, that's better. Thank you, Germany," Italy smiled, almost forcibly.

"I'll go get you a blanket."

"Non, Potato Bastard! I'll get it!" Romano stomped away, almost bumping into Japan, who had been silent the entire time.

The small man smiled, "Maybe you can help me make lunch, Germany. Italy-kun was never able to eat earlier."

Blue eyes turned to soft brown ones, considering what should be done. Finally, the man gave up his debate, and followed his friend into the kitchen.

Italy was left alone.

Left alone in his living room.

Left alone with his thoughts.

His thoughts.

His _nightmares_.

And he could not stop thinking about them. What were they? Why was he having them? Why only him? Italy usually kept all of his bad thoughts locked up. The last bad dream he ever really had was when he thought Germany and Japan were leaving him behind.* But these nightmares. . .

Italy was so caught up in his thoughts that he did not hear his brother walk into the room.

"Hey-"

Italy screamed, jumping out of his seat. Italy landed on the floor, knocking the back of his head on the coffee table. Before he could get up though, Romano, Germany, and Japan were already by his side.

"Vhat happened?!" Germany yelled.

"Shut it, Potato Bastard! I didn't do anything! He just screamed!" Romano growled back. He turned towards his twin, "Fratello? You okay?"

"S-si." Italy squinted, holding his head.

"Here. Let me see," Japan moved towards Italy, the doctorial side of him taking over. He took a few minutes to throroughly check the wounded area. Finally, Japan sighed out of the relief, "You are fine, Italy-kun. It is just a bump. It will be sore for a few hours, but should heal up quickly."

Italy was glad for that. However, now he had to deal with the people in the room.

"What happened, Italy?" Germany stared him straight in the eyes.

Italy was a deer in the headlights. He swallowed, trying to waste time before answering.

"Italy. What. Happened."

Italy looked down at his lap, hiding his fear and embarrassment, which was written all over his face, behind his long bangs.

He took a deep breath and said, "Fratello just took me by surprise. I was thinking about food so much, I forgot where I was." His face came back up, his signature goofy smile trying to hide the fear that was still there.

Germany did not say a thing. He knew, as the other two in the room did, that Italy was flat-out lying. He just kept it to himself, though. He did not know what was happening with his friend, but he could not do anything about it. Not yet at least.

Japan and Romano helped Italy back onto the couch. Italy waved to both as they left, only to freeze when he saw a black cape fly up before disappearing around the corner into the hallway.

/

/

/

*The dream in one of the anime episodes where Italy thought that Germany and Japan didn't like him at all. I think it was episode 37.


	4. Ch 3 - Go back

**Mr. Himaruya owns Hetalia, not me. This is just to work on my story telling.**

/

/

Chapter 3

/

That night, the house was restless, though only for a certain young Italian. Italy could not remember much of dinner, though he did recall smiling a lot and complimenting Japan's cooking several times. And before he knew it, he was on the coach, wrapped up in blankets like one of Mexico's tacos. Germany insisted he go back to his bedroom, but after some whining from him and a curse or two from Romano, the man gave up. Before Germany went into one of the guestrooms, he was heard mumbling something about Italians, children, and another migraine. Japan had chuckled, following down the hall to another guestroom.

Now, Italy laid in the darkness, listening to his brother's breathing. Italy looked towards his twin, noticing how peaceful he was. His brother was probably thinking about pizza and tomatoes, Italy thought. He just wished he could go back to that. Go back to dreaming like that. But he was afraid to sleep.

Italy thought he was going insane. Where were these nightmares coming from? And the sounds? And that person? That creature? What was it? Why was it following him? Was it still in his house?

Italy was making himself scared, more scared than he was before.

It was then that he heard the floor creaked. Italy jumped a little, turning his eyes towards the hallway. He tensed up, getting ready to see the black cloaked creature again. Yet he sighed when Pooki, his little cat, came walking in. Pooki stayed for only a bit, not caring much about what she found in the room, and walked away.

Italy relaxed, feeling slightly embarrassed that his own cat would scare him. Thankfully no one saw him.

It was then that something grabbed him, wrenching him back, covering his mouth. Italy thrashed against the creature, struggling to scream, to breath. The creature griped his hair, jerking back his head.

Italy's eyes widened.

Two piercing orbs cut through the still air, staring straight into his own. Italy stopped resisting. He was transfixed on those hypnotizing orbs.

With no warning, the world around him was started to peel away, his house flaking off as burnt pieces, as if it were paper. Then, there was darkness.

Italy slowly fell to the ground.

The creature disappeared.

There was no sound. No sight. No anything. Only Italy.

After what seemed like hours, days, weeks, the nation was finally able to move his hand. He lifted it to his heart, and sighed relief as he felt his heart move, beating strangely in a steady rhythm.

The world slowly formed around him, his blurry vision clearing. He looked up to see Germany with his eyes closed. There was some dirt on his cheek, a cut on his lip, with some of his hair fallen over his face. Italy reached up to wipe the stray hairs away; but when he touched the skin, he felt how cold the man was. It was then that Italy realized how pale the other was.

"G-germany?" he lifted himself up, only then realizing that he was in the other's lap. He stopped, looking at how Germany's arms draped around him. His friend was holding him. But why?

Italy whipped around at a grunting sound. He found the bodies of his friends laying on the floor. Each and every one of them lifeless. Not moving. Not breathing. Wounds with blood oozing from them.

"Guys?" Italy slipped out of Germany's arms, "Hello? Anyone?"

The grunt came again. Italy's head swiftly turned towards the right. There he saw a small, limp figure on the ground. It moaned once more. Italy filled with worry and slowly crawled towards the body, making sure not to hit any of his friends. He reached out to the body, turning it towards him. It was a young boyish face, covered with blood and bruises. Italy's heart stopped for a moment. He knew this boy. But who was it?

The boy's eyes opened and winced at the little light that shown in the room, "I-Italy?"

"H-how do you know my name?" Italy gasped.

The small figure smiled, "We thought you died."

"Died?!" Italy shouted, silencing himself soon after, in fear of the echo that followed his voice.

"Y-yes," curly blond hair fell in front of amethyst orbs, "We fought hard. . . Germany pro-tected you. . . we need you. . ."

"Need me?"

"Yes," the boy gasped for air, trying to breathe, "You need. . ."

"Need? Need what?"

"You need to go ba –" he coughed up blood.

Italy pulled him up close to his chest, "Are you alright?"

The boy ignored him, "Go back. Go back to the past."

"What?! What do you mean?!"

"Go. . .back-" he wheezed once more, his eyes opening wide, "hurry!"

Italy's own eyes filled with tears, "Don't die!"

"Hurry!"

"Don't die! Don't –"

Italy shot up from the couch, heart beating fast, sweat dripping down from his face. He hugged his body, silently crying into his legs. He did not notice his brother looking at him, both shocked and sympathetic.

"I-italy?" Romano quietly asked, too scared to speak up.

Italy kept crying.

Romano stayed in his spot. He did not know what to do. He just saw his brother wake up, sobbing.

Romano closed his eyes, breathed, and then looked at his brother, "Fratello," he stood up, walked to his brother, and moved him into his arms, "Fratello," He held his brother there for hours, waiting for Italy to calm down; waiting for him to go back to sleep.


End file.
